So I may just have mentioned in passing that 'Fat Girls and Fairy Cakes,' is out in September and as fans (ok a fan) will be begging for my book signings and demanding a tour I need to be uber fabulous.
I can't possibly allow my public to see me because the doughnut and dipped flake diet has taken its toll. So I've worked out that if I live on leaves and water and sweat several vigorous workouts a day, I could lose at least 2 stone by September. However, there is a major flaw in my body masterplan - I'm too lazy to exercise and too greedy to cut down on wine or chocolate. Oh yes - and I hate leaves!
So imagine my deep joy when my Fairy Godmother appeared and promised to wave her wand and transform me into a slim, stunner by twighlight.
Once upon a time, my best friend Lesley had been the delighted recipient of a lovely gift from her sister in law and fairy godmother (Barbara) in the divine form of a photographic makeover. Barbara had intended to join Lesley on this shoot but as she was residing somewhere hot and glamorous
she suggested Lesley invite a friend instead.
Cue moi and Les in full Joan and Jackie Collins mode, sweeping into the hair, make-up and photographic studio on a hot June afternoon in downtown Manchester.
And it was an education -
the things those people can do with their fingers! Dave tended my tresses until they gleamed, and Stephen applied various creams and colours giving me the face of an angel (still cherubic around the chin - but an angel nonetheless). At my side, Lesley's long curls were transforming her into Claudia Schiffer's twin sister (who'd rejected modelling for a summer of love at Woodstock.)
My 'hippy chick' friend and I were then escorted into the studio and - bouyed by the lip gloss and big hair - we dared to imagine we were 18 and gorgeous. After all the preening and primping I was feeling so very fabulous and on entering the photographer's lair was anyone who would listen that "we are so hot right now!"
Clearly seduced by our 'menopausal Madonnas,' the young snapper had us 'working it' against leopardskin walls and peeping 'cheekily' like wannabe page 3 girls through circular windows. And we played him like a fiddle - demanding he took us from every possible position and stopping only when he collapsed across the chair we'd just straddled 'Christine Keeler' style for our grande finale.
Leaving the photographer spent, we tossed him aside like used Kleenex and made for the viewing room to enjoy how uncannily like Elle and Claudia we really are. We waited with baited breath and stomachs held in as Angela the airbrusher turned on the flickering screen ... and ... silence. Who were the two Beryl Cook ladies filling the screen before us? Who let the fat girls in? And there in the dark chasm of silence and realisation, the truth hit us hard - Claudia and Elle had left the building...years ago.
Lesley and I looked at each other in horror. How had the photographer kept his face straight and his lunch down? Being forced to snap two chunky ladies on the wrong side of forty pouting just-glossed-lips and lunging around like wannabe supermodels was no afternoon delight for anyone. And we can only assume he's now in therapy.
Angela recovered herself swiftly, smiled calmly and didn't flinch. An actress to the end she resisted what must have been a deep urge to point and scream laughing at Pinky and Perky pouting and posing before her on film. Oh yes, Angela's nimble digits had been here before and as a button was pressed here and a screen symbol there my double chin vanished. And as Angela continued her magic, an eight stone Elle Mcpherson emerged alongside the glam hippy chick and Claudia-lookalike that is my friend.
When it was all over, we staggered into daylight, fell over glass slippers, climbed into our Peugot pumpkin - and giggled. As our make-up faded and our locks drooped it didn't matter, because we knew that on a hot afternooon in Manchester our prince had indeed come. We had discovered the fountain of youth and everlasting doughnuts and never need to diet again. As in Oscar Wilde's 'Picture of Dorian Grey,' we can eat, drink and age as much as we like - because now there's Angela and her magic airbrush that wipes away the years of cake, kitkats and Merlot.
So forgive me if I don't turn up to book signings or author talks - I'll send my botox-beautiful photo instead.... and if anyone ever tells you there's no such thing as a fairy godmother - remember this modern day fairy story.
Thanks Barbara x
I can't possibly allow my public to see me because the doughnut and dipped flake diet has taken its toll. So I've worked out that if I live on leaves and water and sweat several vigorous workouts a day, I could lose at least 2 stone by September. However, there is a major flaw in my body masterplan - I'm too lazy to exercise and too greedy to cut down on wine or chocolate. Oh yes - and I hate leaves!
So imagine my deep joy when my Fairy Godmother appeared and promised to wave her wand and transform me into a slim, stunner by twighlight.
Once upon a time, my best friend Lesley had been the delighted recipient of a lovely gift from her sister in law and fairy godmother (Barbara) in the divine form of a photographic makeover. Barbara had intended to join Lesley on this shoot but as she was residing somewhere hot and glamorous
she suggested Lesley invite a friend instead.
Cue moi and Les in full Joan and Jackie Collins mode, sweeping into the hair, make-up and photographic studio on a hot June afternoon in downtown Manchester.
And it was an education -
the things those people can do with their fingers! Dave tended my tresses until they gleamed, and Stephen applied various creams and colours giving me the face of an angel (still cherubic around the chin - but an angel nonetheless). At my side, Lesley's long curls were transforming her into Claudia Schiffer's twin sister (who'd rejected modelling for a summer of love at Woodstock.)
My 'hippy chick' friend and I were then escorted into the studio and - bouyed by the lip gloss and big hair - we dared to imagine we were 18 and gorgeous. After all the preening and primping I was feeling so very fabulous and on entering the photographer's lair was anyone who would listen that "we are so hot right now!"
Clearly seduced by our 'menopausal Madonnas,' the young snapper had us 'working it' against leopardskin walls and peeping 'cheekily' like wannabe page 3 girls through circular windows. And we played him like a fiddle - demanding he took us from every possible position and stopping only when he collapsed across the chair we'd just straddled 'Christine Keeler' style for our grande finale.
Leaving the photographer spent, we tossed him aside like used Kleenex and made for the viewing room to enjoy how uncannily like Elle and Claudia we really are. We waited with baited breath and stomachs held in as Angela the airbrusher turned on the flickering screen ... and ... silence. Who were the two Beryl Cook ladies filling the screen before us? Who let the fat girls in? And there in the dark chasm of silence and realisation, the truth hit us hard - Claudia and Elle had left the building...years ago.
Lesley and I looked at each other in horror. How had the photographer kept his face straight and his lunch down? Being forced to snap two chunky ladies on the wrong side of forty pouting just-glossed-lips and lunging around like wannabe supermodels was no afternoon delight for anyone. And we can only assume he's now in therapy.
Angela recovered herself swiftly, smiled calmly and didn't flinch. An actress to the end she resisted what must have been a deep urge to point and scream laughing at Pinky and Perky pouting and posing before her on film. Oh yes, Angela's nimble digits had been here before and as a button was pressed here and a screen symbol there my double chin vanished. And as Angela continued her magic, an eight stone Elle Mcpherson emerged alongside the glam hippy chick and Claudia-lookalike that is my friend.
When it was all over, we staggered into daylight, fell over glass slippers, climbed into our Peugot pumpkin - and giggled. As our make-up faded and our locks drooped it didn't matter, because we knew that on a hot afternooon in Manchester our prince had indeed come. We had discovered the fountain of youth and everlasting doughnuts and never need to diet again. As in Oscar Wilde's 'Picture of Dorian Grey,' we can eat, drink and age as much as we like - because now there's Angela and her magic airbrush that wipes away the years of cake, kitkats and Merlot.
So forgive me if I don't turn up to book signings or author talks - I'll send my botox-beautiful photo instead.... and if anyone ever tells you there's no such thing as a fairy godmother - remember this modern day fairy story.
Thanks Barbara x
Sue and Lesley ... preserved for ever like Dorian Grey.
Gee, I imagine the photographer would need a whole lot of therapy after taking me! Great post. I assume the two beauties in your sidebar are you two?
ReplyDeleteCJ xx
Hi Crystal,
ReplyDeleteAnd hello to a new friend from the http://loveahappyending.com/ site.
Thanks so much for your comment - oh yes and as you guessed - we are the two glamour queens heating up the sidebar. The photographer was never seen again! x